Hilda looked at the man in front of her, his face arranged into perfect, tender devotion, and felt nothing but revulsion and absurdity crashing together.
She wrenched her hand free. Her nails raked across the back of his hand, leaving a thin line of blood.
"You're already a married man, Jasper. Does this act of yours really seem appropriate?"
Every muscle in his body locked. The flawless mask cracked, fracture by fracture.
Hilda grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door, but Jasper yanked her back so hard she nearly fell.
"That's not it, Hilda. You've got it wrong. Just let me explain."
"I never wanted to marry her. I swear. My parents forced me. I had no choice!"
He swiped at his tears. "I love you. I only love you. Please believe me."
Hilda stared at him, her gaze ice-cold. Then, without a word, she reached out and tore open the buttons of his shirt.
A sprawl of red marks covered his skin, unmistakable.
"Jasper, I don't dare believe you anymore."
Jasper's expression shifted. He scrambled to cover his neck with his hand, panic written across his face.
Hilda's look of pure disgust cut through him. He clutched his collar and snarled, "Do you really have to do this, Hilda?"